


Merritt and Evariste Are Dead

by ynites



Category: Havemercy Series - Jaida Jones & Danielle Bennett
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Homophobia, Gay, M/M, Rating May Change, Unrequited Love, what is canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 02:04:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13308084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ynites/pseuds/ynites
Summary: They're alive, for now.Title is a reference to Tom Stoppard'sRosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead.





	Merritt and Evariste Are Dead

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place immediately after the raid in the first book.
> 
>  
> 
> tw: blood, torture

EVARISTE

I awoke suddenly. Had I fallen asleep? It felt as if I had blinked away an inordinate amount of time. I could still hear a ringing in my ears and feel the icy air invading the smallest of spaces between my clothes and skin. The pungent stench of soot and smoke hung in the air like a dense fog around me. Where was I? I remembered falling as Ilarion’s fuel supply ran out, but now there was solid ground beneath me. Damp stone pressed against my cheek, solid and unyielding. The only thing in sight was a void of inky blackness. 

A scream rang out, raising the hairs on my arms. I made to rub my eyes but my hands bumped against my flight goggles. _Idiot,_ I scolded myself. Of course I hadn't been able to see; they were bound to be coated in grease and soot. I pulled them off and let them drop, blinking to allow my eyes to adjust to the relative brightness of my surroundings. A single torch was the first thing to come into view, its wavering flame playing upon the vertical metal bars of... my prison? 

Something clicked into place in my head. 

The battle. The suicide mission. Falling. Capture. 

There was a second scream, prolonged and hoarse. 

Torture. 

The gravity of my situation seeped into my bones gradually and insidiously, until I was trembling enough that my teeth clacked. I drew a choppy breath and tried to tell myself that it was just the cold that was making me shiver so, because I was an Airman of the Dragon Corps, and if it came to it, surely I could withstand whatever punishment that screaming fool was facing. 

Mere seconds after that thought crossed my mind, my cage was opened and I was pulled roughly to my feet by someone who was partially obscured by darkness. A jailer, perhaps. Too weak and disoriented to fight back, I allowed myself to be led into another room, this one lit by a brazier. There, I was pushed into another cell, which offered me an excellent view of a man whose head was adorned with Ke-Han braids, and a larger man with only two plaits in his hair. 

Chained to a wall was yet another man, who raised his head to gaze at me with blankly staring eyes. His complexion was unmistakable a myriad of freckles upon a pale face, visible even under flakes of drying blood, grime, and bruises. 

I steeled myself for the worst, inhaling deeply and then slowly letting out my breath as a new person, like an actor switching masks. 

"Airman Merritt," I said as my jailer exited the room- or, it seemed, the bastion-blessed torture chamber- up a flight of stone steps and into the bright outdoors. "What a surprise to see you here. I do hope you've not caused trouble in this... fine establishment." 

He made a choked noise, more of a gurgle really, and I took a good look at him. His body was strewn with wounds that had bled through his uniform enough to dye parts of it a deep burnished red in half-dried blotches, some glittering wetly. As overpowered with the smell of dragonsmoke as my nose was, I could detect the metallic tang of blood in the stagnant air. There was a table nearby, covered in a neat assortment of knives that made Ivory's prized collection look like a Mollyrat's cutlery. 

"What the fuck happened to you?" I asked, though I would have had to be stupid to not have put two and two together. 

He didn't answer. I didn't blame him. 

The braided Ke-Han stepped in front of my cell, his dark eyes cold and impassive. "Dragonrider," he said, his heavily-accented voice softer and calmer than it had any right to be, as sharp as the bloodied edge of the knife he held. "Your comrade has been uncooperative. He will die today, unless you can answer questions on his behalf." 

"I don't appreciate being held responsible for a lost cause." 

He didn't so much as blink, instead turning so that both Merritt and I could see his face. Only the sharpest angles of his face were illuminated by the firelight. "What information were you given about our magics?" he asked, his gaze passing first over Merritt, then fixing upon myself. 

"Fuck you," I said. 

For a brief moment, he didn't move. Then he stepped closer to Merritt, knife raised so that it caught the firelight. "What about you?" 

"Merritt,' I said. His head gave a twitch but he otherwise didn't react. "Merritt, I swear by the bastion, if you tell him a single thing I am going to throttle you myself and tell the boys you committed treason." 

I kept my eyes on the Ke-Han, ignoring Merritt's howl of pain as the steel bit into some body part. To his credit, he didn't say anything coherent. We each had our own ways of coping, and his seemed to consist of being pathetic and miserable, while doing his best impression of Regina herself. 

The Ke-Han ignored us both. "Tell us what the traitor told you," he said, giving Merritt enough of a break to make himself heard over the racket he was making. 

It didn't occur to me that I had no clue what traitor he was referring to. At the time, it didn't matter. We were trained to not cooperate in the slightest sense of the word, and I had nothing but my training at my disposal. 

"It doesn't matter," I said. "My part in this war is over. I'm not telling you anything." 

He turned slowly, staring directly at me, taking a step toward my cell, then another. "You may think you have won the war," he said, his voice gentle as a mother's touch. "But right now the only war is between you and I, and I am the one with the knife." 

Holding the dagger in both hands, he raised it to my eye level. Drops of blood streaked down his hands, disappearing slowly into the wide sleeves of his robes. His eyes were as empty as the cosmos. 

"It is your turn," he said. 

Behind him, the second Ke-Han man unshackled Merritt from his chains, letting him drop to the floor before dragging him a short distance away. Then he approached my cell as the torturer heated a metal rod in the brazier. If they thought they could put me in those chains and get me to talk, they were wrong. 

The lackey was about to open my cell when the alarm went off. I wasn't sure what it was at first, too confused to identify the clanging from somewhere outside. The lackey exchanged frantic words with the torturer in their undulating tongue and then they both rushed outside, flinging the doors open wide, which let a flood of sunlight in for a brief moment before they thundered shut. 

Then there was quiet, save for the faint clanging. This was my chance. 

My cell was secured from the outside with a mechanism that was infuriatingly close, but ever so slightly out of reach, not matter how I tried to bend my arms. Only someone on the outside of the cell could open it, and that someone was currently lying in a pool of his own blood. 

"Merritt," I hissed to his limp form, as though I could channel my willpower into the bleeding body a few feet away from me. "Merritt, get up, stop lying there and come get me out, do something useful, you insolent little son of a-" 

The doors creaked open. Could they be back so soon? Light brightened the room again, and I felt physically ill. My last source of hope lay bleeding out on the floor. I shouldn't have expected much; the only things Merritt had ever been a source of were noise and annoyance. Now his turn was over, and it was my turn to remember my training and play Regina. I rubbed my face with trembling hands and tried to compose myself as a figure slipped into view. 

It was a woman. 

Her feet made no sound against the stone floor as she hurried toward me. "Are you Airman Evariste? We need to move quickly." 

"I am," I said, completely bewildered. 

"Good." She fumbled with the lock of my cell and let the door swing open. 

Immediately after stepping out, I rounded on her, grabbing her by the front of the Ke-Han robes she wore and lifting her off her feet. 

"Who the fuck are you?" I snarled into her face, which looked so deliciously terrified that I almost laughed right into it. Bastion, it felt good to be the one doing the intimidating. 

"I set off the alarm, I- please, I was a prisoner too, I am a medic! We don't have time, please, I know a way out!" 

Her Volstovic was flawless, so despite her enemy attire I set her back on the floor. She was right, getting out was the priority. I'd save the questions for later, questions like why was she not wearing a red uniform? 

I knelt at Merritt's side. He was out cold but still breathing; the stubborn oaf never knew when to give up. I hoisted him up as carefully as I could while retaining enough momentum to drape him across my shoulders like a mink scarf, only scarves didn't usually smear blood all over the wearer. The torturer had cut off his fucking fingers; his mangled hands dripped warm red blood down my coat. 

Now was not the time to react. I turned again to the sheep in wolf's clothing. "Alright. Get us out of here." 

"He'll... slow us down," she began hesitantly. "Just look at him. I'm afraid there's nothing-" 

"I'm not leaving him," I said, swiping a dagger off the table as gracefully as I could while carrying someone larger and heavier than myself. It was a mean looking thing with a cruel edge, and I brandished it a little for the medic's benefit before tucking it carefully into my belt. "And neither are you." 

Relenting, she nodded and gestured urgently towards the brightly lit doorway. "Because of the alarm, the base will be expecting an attack and flock to either the armoury or the shelters, mainly the latter. Both are conveniently out of our way. Come with me, quickly. I have prepared a horse." 

Leaving me to struggle with Merritt alone, she surged ahead. I followed her out into the brightness of the outside, blinking in the light. This part of the camp was indeed isolated, having been evacuated for the attack that wouldn't come. The alarm still rang, much louder here on the outside. 

The medic turned to face me just before disappearing behind a stable, holding up a hand, palm flat. I took it as a gesture to wait, so I stayed where I stood, uncomfortable in my vulnerability. I was completely defenceless should someone spot me. 

After a minute of waiting, my nerves fraying, and Merritt's entire weight resting uncomfortably on my shoulders, I put him carefully on the ground and pulled out my knife. Just in case. 

Fortunately, the only other person I saw was the medic herself, leading a draft horse which had a large pack strapped to its back. I didn't put my knife away until she reached me. 

"I have prepared provisions," she said, "and there is room for us both to ride. The other horses spooked-" 

"What about him?" I demanded, pointing at Merritt. 

"Leave him behind," she said with a rushed gentleness. "There is no hope for him." 

For some reason, that simple statement filled me with rage. It surged through my skin like fire and set my arms shaking. How did she not understand that I wasn't going to leave him here? "He will be just fine," I growled through gritted teeth. 

"He's half-dead." 

"Then I won't let him die on enemy soil." 

"Does it really matter where he dies?" 

She was either stupid or brave, talking like this to someone who was armed, angry, and desperate. But she must have seen that I wasn't going to back down, because she sighed and looked away. "Have it your way, Airman. But there may be something I can do." 

Squatting beside Merritt, she unbuttoned his uniform, tugging the fabric to separate it from flesh of the parts of his chest where his wounds had started to heal and fuse to the cloth. I reached out to stop her when doing so caused some gashes to bleed anew, but she slapped my hand away and closed her eyes. "My Talent can help him, if you would let me concentrate." 

Knowing that she had magic up her silken Ke-Han sleeve was less than reassuring, but I stood back a little, my hand hovering over my knife. Just in case. She placed her hands over Merritt and hummed a low note, and when she opened her eyes again, his wounds were glowing with a faint white light. 

"What have you done?" 

"I've stopped the bleeding. We need to go." 

I heaved him onto the horse with graceless difficulty before she could protest, and took the horse's lead. "Where are we going?" 

"Follow me."

**Author's Note:**

> This is the beginning of my first fanfic, which I have been working on for at least two years. I'm going to start priming up and posting chapters, as I've done with this one.
> 
> Notes:  
> -For some reasons question marks aren't showing up, and possibly other things are affected as well. Sorry. Also not sure why it says 0 chapters?


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